Let us take a trip to New England and visit Boston. Boston is New England's chief city in size, in population, in historic interest, and in importance. It is the capital of Massachusetts and the fifth city in size in the United States.

If we were going to visit some far-away cousins whom we had never seen, we should surely want to know something about their age, their appearance, and their habits. Would it not be just as interesting to find out these things about the city we are to see on our journey?

In the early days the Indians called the district where Boston now stands Shawmut, or “living waters.” The first white man to come to Shawmut was William Blackstone, a hermit who made his home on the slope of what is now Beacon Hill. Though Blackstone liked to be alone, he was unselfish. So when he heard that the settlers of a Puritan colony not far away were suffering for want of pure water, he went to their governor, John Winthrop, “acquainted him with the excellent spring of water that was on his land and invited him and his followers thither.” Blackstone's offer was gladly accepted. The[106]
[107] Puritans purchased Shawmut from the Indians and in 1630 began their new settlement, which they named Boston in honor of the English town which had been the home of some of their leading men.

Originally Boston was a little irregular peninsula of scarcely 700 acres, entirely cut off from the mainland at high tide. It did not take the colonists long, however, to outgrow these narrow quarters. They soon filled in the marshes and coves with land from the hills. They spread out over two small islands and made them part of Boston. Then, one by one, they took in neighboring settlements. And from this start Boston has grown, until to-day it has an area of about 43 square miles and a population of nearly 700,000.

We must get a clear idea of these various districts of Boston. If not, we shall be puzzled to meet friends from Roxbury or Dorchester and hear them say that they live in Boston. There is Boston proper, the old Boston before it annexed its neighbors; East Boston, comprising two islands in the harbor which joined Boston in 1635 and 1637; then, annexed from time to time, come Roxbury, Dorchester, Charlestown,—the scene of the Battle of Bunker Hill,—West Roxbury, and Brighton; and last, Hyde Park, which, by the vote of its people and the citizens of Boston, joined the city in November, 1911. These have all kept their original names, but have given up their local governments to share Boston's larger privileges and advantages. So remember that when we meet friends from Roxbury, West Roxbury, Dorchester, Brighton, East Boston, South Boston, or Hyde Park, they are all Boston people. The children from these districts would resent it if they were not known as Boston boys and girls just as much as those who live in the very heart of the city.

While we have been reading all this, our boat has been drawing closer to the city, and now we must gather up our wraps and bags and be ready to start out. We see a very busy harbor, its noisy tugs drawing the sullen-looking coal barges; its graceful schooners loaded to the water's edge with lumber; and its fishing boats with their dirty sails, not attractive but doing the work that has placed Boston first in importance as a fishing port. Crowded steamers and ferryboats pass swiftly by, while huge ocean steamships may be seen poking their noses out from their docks at East Boston and South Boston or heading toward the city with their thousands of eager passengers.

As we hurry along with our fellow travelers we must decide how best to reach our hotel. There are taxicabs and carriages for some; electric cars, both surface and elevated, for the many. Boston has excellent car and train service. The Boston Elevated Railway Company controls most of the car lines in the city as well as in the outlying towns. This makes it possible for us to ride for a nickel an average distance of at least five miles.

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A line of elevated trains running across the city connects West Roxbury on the south with Charlestown on the north. Some of these trains pass through the Washington Street tunnel, from which numerous well-lighted, well-ventilated stations lead directly to the shopping and business section of the city. On this elevated road are two huge terminal stations, into which rush countless surface cars, bringing from all points north and south the immense crowds of suburbanites who come to Boston proper each day, to work or on pleasure bent.

Chelsea folks come to the city by ferry or by electric car, while those from East Boston have two ferry lines as well as a tunnel for cars under the harbor.

The city proper has two immense union railroad depots, the North and the South station, where hundreds of local, as well as long-distance, trains leave and arrive each day. The railroads entering Boston are the Boston & Albany, which, by means of the New York Central lines, connects with the West; the Boston & Maine, leading northward to Maine and Canada; and the New York, New Haven & Hartford, which connects by way of New York with various points in the South.

All these transportation advantages have made Boston an excellent place in which to live, as its suburbs afford the benefits of country life while yet they are within a few minutes' ride of a big city.

There are several ways in which we can see Boston. We may climb into one of the great sight-seeing autos and ride from point to point while the man with the megaphone calls our attention to the interesting landmarks and gives their history; we can engage a guide who will take us from place to place; or we can simply follow the directions of our guide book.

No trip to Boston is complete without a visit to the State House, or capitol, whose gilded dome is seen glittering in the sunlight by day and sparkling with electric lights by night. It is situated on Beacon Hill, the highest point of land in the city proper. Up to 1811 one peak of the hill was as high as the gilded dome is now, and on its summit a beacon was set up as early as 1634, to warn the people in the surrounding country of approaching disaster. It seems, however, that the beacon was never used, and during the Revolution the British pulled it down and built a fort in its place.

Even if there were no gilded dome on the State House, the building itself is handsome enough to attract attention. It was designed in 1795 by Charles Bulfinch, a famous architect. The front of the building to-day is the historic Bulfinch front. But as Boston grew, so also did the State House, and additions were made in 1853, in 1889, and in 1915, until now we have the impressive building we are about to enter.

But stop after climbing the main steps, turn around, and look at the green field before you. This is Boston Common, the famous Boston Common where the people of long ago used to pasture their cows; where the British in the early days of the Revolution set up their fortified camps during the siege of Boston; and where, at the present time, the admiring relatives of the high-school boys assemble yearly to see them go through their military drill. Situated as it is in the very heart of the city, Boston Common is the resting place, the breathing place, for thousands. It is the people's playground. Fireworks, band concerts, public speaking, all prove that its public character has never been lost, and that it is now as much of a Common as it was in 1649, when it was first laid out. By a wise clause in the city charter, this Common cannot be sold or leased without the consent of the citizens.

The Common contains many memorials erected by a grateful people. The most conspicuous is the Army and Navy Monument, which reaches far above the trees. Directly opposite the State House is the Shaw Memorial, a wonderful bronze bas-relief by Saint Gaudens, showing the gallant Colonel Shaw and his colored regiment.

The sight of Shaw's earnest young face amid his dusky followers prepares us for entering Doric Hall in the State House, set apart as a memorial for those who died in their country's cause. We look with awe and reverence on the flags whose worn and tattered edges tell plainly of the struggles of their bearers and defenders.

Let us peep into the Senate chamber and into the hall of the House of Representatives with its historic codfish suspended from the ceiling, a reminder of a most humble source of Massachusetts' wealth. We will then climb to the dome and see Boston before a cold east wind sweeps suddenly in, covering the city with fog and making all misty and uncertain. As we reach the highest point, it really seems as if the fog had rolled in, but it is only a fog of smoke from the many chimneys of the city's countless factories.

As our eyes get accustomed to the view, the mist seems to roll away, and the city lies before us. That blue line to the east is the harbor, and between us and the harbor[115]
[116] is the business section of Boston, the noisy, throbbing heart of a big city. Directly back of us as we stand facing the water is the West End, once a fashionable section where Boston's literary men held court, now a district largely given over to tenements and lodging-houses. To the north and south lie the North and South ends; the former, the oldest of the city and the great foreign district of the present time, where children from many lands have their homes.

That broad winding stream of water that we see is the Charles River. Just beyond it to the north is Charlestown, its Bunker Hill Monument towering up for all to see. The city of Cambridge is just across the Charles River to the west, and next to it, skirting the southern bank of the river, is the district of Brighton. South Boston, Roxbury, West Roxbury, Hyde Park, and Dorchester lie toward the south. Among the many islands in the harbor, East Boston is the most crowded and the closest to the city proper. Towards the southwest, between us and the Charles, lies Back Bay, once tidewater but now filled in and made into land. Look around you and notice how the surrounding parts of Boston form a chain about their parent, a chain broken only by Cambridge—the seat of Harvard University—and Brookline,—Massachusetts' wealthiest town,—which refuses to become a city or to join its larger neighbor.

As we leave the State House, a few minutes' walk brings us to the heart of Boston's great shopping district and to Boston's leading business street. You will be glad to know that this street is called neither Main Street nor[118]
[119] Broadway, but Washington Street. Originally, part was known as Orange, part as Marlborough, and part as Newbury. But when, at the close of the Revolution, Washington rode through the city at the head of a triumphal procession, the people renamed the street along which he passed, Washington, and so it is called to-day in all its ten miles of length. Washington Street is very narrow in parts, and as it is lined on both sides with some of Boston's largest and finest department stores, it presents a very animated appearance on a week-day afternoon.

Stop for a moment on busy Newspaper Row. Here a bystander may read the news of the world as it is posted hourly upon the great bulletin boards of the various newspaper offices.

Parallel to Washington Street, and connected with it by many short streets, is Tremont Street, another old historic road. Originally Tremont Street was a path outlined by William Blackstone's cows on their way to pasture; now it is second only to Washington Street in importance.

Washington Street is really the main dividing line between the retail and wholesale parts of the city. The water front is the great wholesale section. Here there is a constant odor of leather in the air, and great heavy wagons laden with hides are continually passing to and from the wharves and stations. When we stop and consider that Boston and the neighboring cities of Brockton and Lynn are among the largest shoe-manufacturing cities in the world, then we do not wonder at the leather we see. It is no vain boast to say that in every quarter of the world may be seen shoes that once, in the form of leather, were carted through the streets of Boston.

What is true of leather is also true of cotton and wool. Lowell, Fall River, and New Bedford are calling for cotton to be made into cloth in their busy mills, while Lawrence is the greatest wool-manufacturing city in the country. Boston, with its harbor and great railroad terminals, is constantly receiving these materials and distributing them to these cities.

The finished cloths often return to Boston to be cut and made into clothes, and an army of men and women cut and sew from day to day on garments for people far distant from Boston as well as for those near home.

One glance at the wharves along Atlantic Avenue and Commercial Street and our glimpse of busy Boston will be ended. Here are wharves and piers jutting out into the harbor, where are boats of every kind from every land. New York alone among American cities outranks Boston in the value of her foreign commerce. From one large steamer thousands of green bananas are being carried. They will be sold to the many fruit dealers, from those whose show windows are visions of beauty, to the Greek or Italian peddler who pushes his hand cart out into the suburbs.

Some of the steamers are already puffing with importance as if to hasten the steps of travelers who are on their way to board ship for different ports in the South, for Nova Scotia and other points north, or perhaps to cross the Atlantic.

Two of the wharves—T Wharf and the new fishing pier—are devoted to the fishing industry. From the banks of Newfoundland and the other splendid fishing grounds along the coast from Cape Cod to Labrador, fishermen are constantly bringing their catches to Boston, their chief market. In addition, Gloucester and other fishing ports re-ship most of the fish brought to them to the Boston market. Is it any wonder that Boston ranks first of all the cities of the United States in the fish trade? In 1910 Boston received and marketed $10,500,000 worth of fish—more than any other American city, and exceeded by only one other port in the world.

In this neighborhood too is a tablet marking the site of Griffin's Wharf, where the Boston Tea Party of the Revolution took place. We remember how the people of Boston refused to pay the tax on tea; how the shiploads[123]
[124] of tea sent from England remained unloaded at the wharf; and how, finally, after an indignation meeting had been held at the Old South Meeting House, a band of men and boys, disguised as Indians, boarded the vessels, ripped open the chests, and emptied all the cargo into the harbor. It was rightly called the Boston Tea Party.

As we are so close to the North End, we may as well go there at once. The North End is the oldest section of Boston. It was here that Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Paul Revere, and other patriots had their headquarters during the troublous times before the Revolution. Paul Revere, of whose famous ride we have all read in Longfellow's poem, lived and carried on his business in this very district. If we wish, we can see his home as well as the famous Old North Church, where his friend hung the lanterns warning him of the movements of the British.

But to-day there is little else to remind us of the past. As we cross North Square and see the gesticulating, dark-skinned men, the stout, gayly kerchiefed women in the doorways, and the hordes of dark-eyed children on street and sidewalk, we wonder if by mistake we have not entered some city in southern Europe. To-day the North End of Boston is the great foreign section of the city. Here live the Jews, Italians, and Russians. They tell us that more than one third of the entire population of the city are foreigners.

But when a group of boys rushes toward us, each begging to be our guide to the Old North Church, to Paul Revere's house, or to the famous Copp's Hill Burying Ground,—all for a nickel,—we are sure we are in America and gladly follow our leader through the narrow, crooked streets.

From among the parents of these children come the fruit peddlers, the clothing makers, the street musicians, and the great army of laborers which helps to keep the city in repair.

Are we tired of the noise and confusion of the crowded tenement district? If so, let us go to the broad streets and beautiful parks of the Back Bay, the abode of the wealthy. The Back Bay, as its name suggests, was originally the Back Cove, and where these houses now stand, the waves once danced in glee. But Boston filled in the marshes and coves and laid out fine streets on the newly made land. Here is the famous Beacon Street, and parallel to it is Boston's most beautiful thoroughfare,—Commonwealth Avenue,—two hundred and twenty feet wide, with a parkway running through the center. See the children with their nurses, playing on the grass or roller skating on the broad sidewalks, apparently no happier than the little ones of the North End.

But it is not merely its fine streets and homes that make the Back Bay the handsomest part of the city. In this section are many of Boston's finest public buildings. Come to Copley Square, the most beautiful in the city. Here stands Trinity Church,—Phillips Brooks' church,—a magnificent structure of granite with sandstone trimmings. Phillips Brooks was for a brief year the Protestant Episcopal bishop of Massachusetts. He was loved by those of all denominations. After his death the citizens of Boston united in erecting a splendid memorial, in token of their love for him and their gratitude for his services. The statue is by Augustus Saint Gaudens and is considered one of the greatest works of that great sculptor.

On Copley Square we see also the New Old South Church and the Boston Public Library.

Boston is very proud of her public library, and rightly so, for it is not only one of the finest buildings in Boston but also one of the finest libraries in the country. Look at the magnificent marble staircase, the curiously inlaid floor and ceiling of the entrance hall, the graceful statues, the wonderful paintings, and the fine courtyard with its sparkling fountain. On the floors above are the children's room with its low tables and chairs and rows upon rows of interesting books; Bates Hall, a most attractive reading room; Sargent's mystical paintings; and Edwin A. Abbey's series of paintings, which are called “The Quest of the Holy Grail.”

Besides the main library there are branch libraries or reading rooms in every section of the city. Altogether the Boston Public Library contains over one million volumes, making it the largest circulating library in the United States.

But there are other buildings in the Back Bay which rival those on Copley Square. We should see the Christian Science church with its massive dome; the Boston Opera House; and Symphony Hall, the home of the famous Boston Symphony Orchestra, known the country over.

The Boston Museum of Fine Arts stood originally on Copley Square, but in 1909 a new and magnificent building was opened, farther out in the Back Bay. Not far from the new museum stands the Harvard Medical School, an imposing group of five white-marble buildings.

But now we are tired of buildings, so come into the Public Garden—the gateway to the Back Bay—and while you rest I will tell you about Boston's parks. Sitting in the beautiful Public Garden, it will not be hard for you to believe that the park system of Boston is the finest in the country. The first park was, as we have seen, the Common. For many years the Common was not a place of beauty. Edward Everett Hale spoke of it as a “pasture for cows, a playground for children, a training ground for the militia, a place for beating carpets.” Many changes have taken place on the Common since the old days, but two of the characteristics still remain. Boston Common is still a playground for children, and military drills are still to be seen there from time to time.

BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY